


Supernova

by reassembleme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), M/M, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Porn with Feelings, Smut, post-season 6, they uhhhh do it in the red lion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reassembleme/pseuds/reassembleme
Summary: “Is this okay?” He says. Lance’s heart thuds heavy in his chest, nerves fighting to betray him.“I’ve been wanting to do that for three years,” Keith says, breathless. Lance blinks, a stupidly happy smile on his face.-Lance worries for Keith following his return to the Black Lion and the return of Shiro. Meanwhile, he grapples with the rise of old feelings.





	Supernova

A whisper lingers in the far reaches of Lance’s mind, has him frowning and impatient, as he falls in line behind the Black Lion. He checks their course again, disappointed by his own lack of enthusiasm. They’re finally going home, and his mind won’t still. A bounce of his leg, a tension in his brow, the grip on his controls, and he grows more unsettled by the hour. He tries to distract himself, but always, inevitably, his mind finds its way back to Keith. He eyes the Black Lion ahead of him, piloted by Keith and boarded by Krolia and a resting Shiro, and barely listens as Keith and Allura detail the journey back. So much is different, so much feels the same. _Are you okay?_

A day’s travel and it hits everyone that no one’s had decent rest in a solid 38 hours. They set to detour to a small supply station, finding a Coalition base. It’s agreed that they’ll stay a few days; rest will do everyone and the lions good. They had a taken quite the beating against Lotor. Lance parks Red alongside the others, leans forward onto the controls, eyes closed. He barely hears the others plan. Slowly, he lifts his head, tries to focus, but everyone’s already done talking. He exhales as he removes his helmet, shakes out his hair. He braces himself to move, to catch up.

The cockpit door slides open, and he whips his head around to greet the intruder. His eyes meet Keith’s, and he jolts. The sight of him is familiar but unfamiliar, sending a thrill through Lance. He allows himself to breathe, to drink in the sight of Keith; alive and safe and _here_. Things had moved so quickly since Keith’s return, years seemed to have passed. He eyes the broadened line of Keith’s shoulders, and smiles wryly to himself. _Okay, maybe they have._ Something stirs unbidden in his chest, stealing his breath, and Lance forces it back down. He schools his expression, fixing Keith with a lopsided smile instead.

“Bit of a big day, huh Red?” He says, and Keith breathes out a laugh.

“You could say that again,” he says, moving towards the cockpit, observing.

They fall silent. Keith’s eyes remain focused, and Lance stares out at the space before them. The quiet is welcome, and Lance stands to give him room as he examines, hands falling at his sides. Torn, fingers itch to reach out, to confirm what his eyes can see; that Keith is real, that everything that happened today was _real_. He eyes the softness of his hair, the sharpness of his eyes, and something tightens in his chest; uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar. Allura flashes in his mind, kind but pitying, and he wants to clear his head. He exhales instead, and manages to catch Keith’s attention.

“You all right?” He says, gently. Lance startles, coughs out a laugh.

“Yeah, just uh- tired, you know?” He says, and he knows how that sounds. The words feel wrong coming out of his mouth. Keith turns a questioning glance his way, but blessedly leaves the half-admission be.

“Well, Coran’s started planning repairs on the lions. Be sure to give him a report on Red’s damage.”

“You got it,” Lance says. Keith lingers for a moment, eyes on Lance, and then he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

There’s a restlessness that takes Lance as the days pass, and it refuses to let him stay in one place. He busies himself, checking up on everyone one at a time. Everyone has their tasks, and Lance has this. Pidge and Hunk work with Coran. Interesting, but nothing he can be of help with. Keith and Allura take turns monitoring Shiro, deep in cryo-sleep. He wants to check in on him, but a guilty tug haunts, relentless. He frowns each time; it’s not his fault, but the knowledge doesn’t ease a thing. He avoids Shiro, all the more grateful for Keith’s hovering presence. He decides to catch Keith alone, finding him standing at the entrance of Black, needing to steel himself to do so. Nerves hum just below his skin, and he hesitates.

Keith at the helm again is strange; different but the same, grown into the role. He leads with an ease that was absent all those months ago, flitting around their makeshift camp to keep himself updated. Whenever Lance catches of glimpse of him, he finds himself smiling.

Lance isn’t blind to the other changes in Keith. Tension hides in the curve of his jaw, in the line of his spine. The dark circles under his eyes expose an exhaustion Lance hadn’t noticed before, and he wonders when Keith last had proper rest. _Maybe I should leave him alone._ Before he can walk away, Keith turns, beams as he spots him. He waves him over, a tablet in hand.

Lance jumps, feet moving towards Keith of their own accord. The smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes, but Lance is glad that he’s trying. He stands next to him, perhaps too close, their shoulders touching as Keith updates him on the state of the Lions. His chest is warm, and he’s glad for the distraction.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance spends most of his time at Keith’s side. He’s just doing his job, being the Black Paladin’s right hand man, is what he tells a skeptical Hunk. _What does he know anyway?_

A week or so has passed since they’ve touched down at the Coalition station--time is tricky when there’s no sun--and Keith has taken to visiting Lance in the Red Lion each evening. He tells himself it’s because Keith must miss Red, but a small corner of him still hopes for something else entirely.

He settles into Red’s seat, eager for tonight’s visit. Lance can’t help the smile that comes when Keith enters the cockpit, can’t help the way it grows when Keith returns it. They sit on the floor across from each other, comfortable as they go over the day’s progress. The Lions’ repairs seem to be nearly done, ready for the long journey home.

He’s not sure when, but the conversation slowly shifts, turning away from paladin business. They gravitate towards each other, reclaiming time lost. Lance prods Keith for more stories about his mom, and Keith listens attentively as Lance regales him with the team’s adventures from while he was away. The hours pass, and Lance tries not to notice how close they’ve gotten. They had already shed most of their outer armor, sitting in their black skin suits and the boots and greaves on their legs. Lance pulls the bedding he’d packed away on Red; remnants of the Castle. A quiet falls over them, a reminder of what they’ve lost, and of what they hope to gain. They sit side by side, shoulders touching, looking out at the stars through Red’s eyes.

“Things sure went to shit, huh?” Lance says, breaking the silence. Keith coughs out a laugh, glancing towards Lance.

“They sure did. Good thing I showed up and saved everyone,” he says, teasing. There’s a playful glint in his eye, and Lance grins at him. Lance lays back, hands behind his head.

“Yeah yeah, _I guess_. But who took control when you went off to get Shiro? That’s right, me!” He says, smirking. “Don’t make a habit of it. I can’t always be pulling your weight, Mullet.” Keith scoffs, shoving Lance as he laughs. Keith averts his eyes.

“You guys did just fine without me anyway, I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic.”

Lance sits up, quieting down as he levels Keith with a softer gaze.

“Dramatic, me? No. More like honest,” he says, earning an eye roll.

“But uh-,” Lance says, sighing. He pauses, brings a hand up to the back of his neck. He drops it, opting to pick at his nails. Quietly, he adds, “We’re- _I’m_ really glad that you’re back.”

The air seems to change around them in the silence that follows, words unsaid hanging between them. Lance feels warm all over, as if he’s said too much. Slow, deliberate, Keith turns to face Lance. Something strange flickers in his gaze as he does, something that has Lance’s heart racing as Keith closes the distance between them.

Hands on his face, lips against his, and Lance is on fire. Immediately, Lance’s hands reach up to curl into Keith’s hair, pressing into him before he can pull away. Their movements are clunky, obstructed by remaining armor, but they press anyway; hot and desperate. Fingers clumsy, they remove their greaves, their boots, their skin suits remaining. Keith lands with an _oof!_ as Lance shoves him down.

“Is this okay?” He says. Lance’s heart thuds heavy in his chest, nerves fighting to betray him.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for three years,” Keith says, breathless. Lance blinks, a stupidly happy smile on his face. Keith stares up at him, sitting up on his elbows, startled but appreciative as Lance relieves himself of the skin suit.

“Good then, feel free to uh, touch. If you’d like,” Lance says, words pushed out. He attempts to call upon the cultivated confidence he’s built up over the years, but it’s hard to hold onto with Keith’s eyes on him. Keith swallows, nods as fingers connect with the line of Lance’s stomach. They smooth upward, palm flat against the planes of Lance’s chest, and he’s sure Keith can feel his heart beating. He shudders as they travel up along his throat, his neck. Lance exhales, and something in Keith changes like a spell broken. He sits up properly, pulls him in, and Lance seats himself in Keith’s lap. This kiss is different, an urgency in it that Lance is helpless to. They struggle, torn between hot desperation and the need for this to be slow.

Keith pauses, leans back. They’re both panting, eyes wide as they stare at each other. Lance can’t think, can barely breathe as Keith’s hands make their way down and across his back. Keith’s tongue darts out, licking his lips, and Lance wants them back on his. A sureness glints in the heat of Keith’s gaze, confidence growing the more his hands explore. Lance slides his hand up to Keith’s face, thumb gently grazing his new scar. Keith’s face softens, grabbing Lance’s hand before slowly bringing it to his lips.

“Lance. Let me take care of you,” he says, and Lance shivers, wanting. They kiss again, a tender thing that stands at stark contrast to the heat just moments before. The kiss is gentle, soft, and Lance’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. Whatever _this_ is feels dangerous, and Lance never wants it to stop. Keith lays Lance back against the blankets on the floor; he captures his hands in his, raises them above his head as he lays flush against Lance, kissing with a depth that overwhelms. Keith shifts, lips trailing the slender column of his throat as he does. He removes his own skinsuit as he descends the length of Lance’s body, detouring first at his nipple, then the other, laving kisses down towards his navel. Lance is gasping by the time his lips reach his hipbone, nipping as he turns playful eyes up towards him.

“Do you have any lube?” He says, lips warm against Lance.

“Yeah, ah, where I grabbed the bedding,” he says, starting to move. Strong hands hold him still, and Keith rises instead. Lance turns onto his side, head in his hand, as he watches Keith go. He eyes the broad line of his shoulders, the curve of his back, spotting a few new scars that weren’t there before. He swallows his nerves, a smirk on his lips. “Wow, I like this Keith. Future Keith is less shy than I thought he’d be.”

“Dork,” Keith says, shaking his head as he rummages. Lance is grateful for the chance to breathe. Keith glances back, a flush on his cheeks, and says, “And uh Lance, I like you too.” The admission leaves Lance warmer than before, and perhaps he spoke too soon about breathing.

Keith makes a triumphant noise, pulling a small glass bottle from the pile of Lance’s belongings. Before Keith can lay back down, Lance is pulling him down against him. He kisses him, and he’s sure he’ll never tire of kissing Keith. He grinds up against him, groaning when Keith grinds back. Keith moves, settles between the heat of Lance’s legs, eyes on his as his lips come down to his cock. Lance’s head swims, lost to the feeling of Keith’s tongue dragging along the underside of his hard length.

“Fuck,” he says, exhaling sharply. Calloused hands across his thighs ground him as Keith takes him in his mouth; Lance groans, long and low, as Keith takes him to the hilt. His eyes fall shut, and Lance gasps, grasping at the bedding beneath him for purchase as he arches back. Keith moves with an inexperience that Lance doesn’t mind; he learns with each gasp, each tug on his hair, each shift of Lance’s hips. Even so, it’s good, so ridiculously good, because it’s Keith. He wants everything Keith has to give.

Lance opens his eyes, catches Keith’s gaze, watches as a hand reaches for the discarded bottle. Slick fingers press at his entrance, gentle but sure. Lance tries to calm himself, tries to resist the urge to buck against the new sensation, but reason is hard to come by with Keith’s hot mouth still working him. The stretch threatens to unravel Lance, taking him apart inch by inch with a sweet sting that has his body humming. He hisses through his teeth when he jerks against Keith's fingers, enthusiasm uncurbed, causing Keith to recoil.

“Shit, sorry I-”

“ _No, don’t stop_. My bad, it’s been a while,” he manages, reaching for Keith’s hand. Keith eyes him warily, smoothing a hand over Lance’s thigh before complying. Lance brushes his fingers over Keith's bangs where they hang in front of his eyes. Experimentally, he tugs, pleased when Keith moans around his cock. He does it again, head falling back as another moan reverberates around him. A need courses through him, hot and insistent, as Keith slides a third finger inside. Keith takes his time, nearly driving Lance over the edge with the slow drag of his fingers. He dangles at the precipice, squirming with want. Shameless, a whine eventually escapes his lips, catching Keith’s attention. He lifts his head, fingers still working, eyes raking across Lance’s form. He can only imagine how he must look right now, panting and flushed just from this.

“Lance, I want to be inside you,” Keith says, wiping the corner of his mouth. _So bold._ He nods. He pulls Keith up, kissing him as he wraps his arms around him. Keith lines himself up against Lance, and Lance turns his head to the side, bracing himself. Keith kisses his brow, his cheek, presses his lips to his ear.

“No, I want to look at you,” he says.  _He’s trying to kill me_. Lance turns his head back, burning under Keith’s gaze as he slides inside. He shudders out a breath as he goes, head falling against Lance’s shoulder. He swallows, and Lance adjusts to this new fullness.

“Tell me when to move,” Keith says, voice tight. An eternity seems to pass before finally, the pressure breaks way to pleasure. Lance nods, chest full.

“Fuck me, Keith,” he says, pleased to see the flush spread across Keith’s features. The careful drag has Lance holding his breath, Keith thrusts back in and the world shifts, its plexus the place where he and Keith meet.

Hazy eyes trail the changes in Keith hidden by armor; a faint scar that extends the length of his abs, a new strength to his lithe form, muscles corded and tight as he moves above him. His hair falls around his face, a curtain of black silk. Lance reaches up to brush some strands away from Keith’s face, lost in the violet of his eyes.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, and Keith groans, grip tight around Lance’s back.

Lance urges, encourages him with his body to go harder, faster. _More, more, more_. The hunger that’s welled up in him surges, a greedy thing that won’t let go. The reality settles in that’s he’s here, with Keith, connected in a way he’d only ever hoped for. A taste, he decides, will never be enough.

Lance pushes him off, and Keith easily complies. Confusion quickly clears from his brow as Lance shoves him back against the wall, seating himself in his lap. Keith curses as Lance impales himself in one swift motion. Lance moans, dizzy with the new depth, the new control. He sets a relentless pace, revels in the way Keith falls apart beneath him.

A hand on his hip and the other in his hair, Keith holds on like a drowning man. Noises fall from his lips unchecked, and each one flames the heat coiling in Lance’s gut. Keith’s close, and Lance’s heart thuds in his chest, anticipation mounting.  _I want it._ Lance leans in, lips at his ear.

“Come for me, Keith,” he says. Keith kisses him, rolls his hips to meet Lance at each move.

“No, together,” he says against his lips.

“Didn't take you for a romantic,” he says, bite softened by his breathlessness.

“Shut up,” he says, kissing down the length of Lance’s throat. Open mouthed kisses trail down to the bend where shoulder meets neck, and Keith bites, kissing the mark in apology. Lance groans, a broken thing stuttered by the rise and fall of his hips. He hangs onto Keith's shoulders, head falling forward as Keith wraps a hand around his cock, pumping in time with his movements. They grow erratic as they chase their climax, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. Keith comes first, spilling inside of Lance through shuddered breaths. He doesn't stop, keeping his pace as Lance chases his own release. The world falls away to a mantra of _Keith, Keith, Keith_ as a familiar warmth builds in Lance’s core. He’s gasping, nails digging into Keith’s shoulders, and Keith holds him through it. He spills on both their stomachs, falling limp against him. A few beats pass by in the quiet of the aftermath, and Lance lets out a shaky laugh.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. He laughs, too, a dimple forming on his left cheek. _Not fair_.

“ _Yeah._ ” Lance languishes in his arms for a few moments more, and happy is inadequate to describe the warmth that radiates through him. Eventually he rises, reluctantly pulling himself out of Keith’s embrace to get an old shirt to clean them up. He makes quick work of it, tossing it before facing Keith. A strange look crosses his features, and Keith tilts his head at him.

“What?”

“You meant it before, when you said you liked me?” And the words feel silly coming out of his mouth, but he needs to know.

“Lance, I- _Yes_. God, yes,” he says, an honesty in his eyes that puts Lance at ease. He exhales, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding. Tension slips from the lines of his shoulders, a slow smirk fixing itself on his lips.

“...What now?”

“So, three years, huh?”

“I was in a weird space pocket timeline for two of them!” Lance grins at him, eyebrows raised.

“ _Keith_ , how embarrassing!”

“Oh, shut up Loverboy,” he says, shoving him, still grumbling about space-time and fairness. The warmth of welcome inevitability settles over Lance, soothing an itch months long in the making. He watches Keith, flustered but fond as he sputters, and smiles. He pulls him down to lay beneath him, silencing him with a kiss. So much is different, but so much feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! xx


End file.
